Turning tragedy into VICTORY

One struggled with her baby’s disability while the other lost her husband in a car crash. Read how two women find new hope to turn their lives around.

Portrait of Tammy Strobel

One struggled with her baby’s disability while the other lost her husband in a car crash. Read how two women find new hope to turn their lives around.

“I wish my daughter will never feel less capable just because she’s missing a hand”
“I wish my daughter will never feel less capable just because she’s missing a hand”

Single mum Christabel Koh, 28, almost lost her life – and her child – to postnatal depression. Now, as a lead supervisor of an online grocer, she’s found contentment and a new lease on life…

Christabel Koh got a shock when she delivered her first child, Chrislyn, three years ago. During the Caesarean section, doctors found her baby girl’s left forearm had been severed by amniotic band syndrome (ABS) in the womb, a rare congenital disorder where thin strands of tissue form inside the amniotic sac and tangle around the foetus like rubber bands. In Chrislyn’s case, the bands had gone all the way around her left arm, cutting off half of the forearm, and fusing the fingers on her right hand.

“They found Chrislyn’s tiny left hand inside my womb,” Christabel says, recalling the bellytwisting memory, “Throughout my pregnancy there hadn’t been any symptoms that showed I had ABS.” What followed after Chrislyn’s birth worsened by the day. At a loss with her newborn’s permanent disability and crippled by financial hardship, Christabel plunged into severe post-natal depression. Around the same time, her estranged relationship with Chrislyn’s father soured and they parted ways.

“When I was pregnant, I dreamed of Chrislyn playing the violin and dancing the ballet. But all I got were dirty or pity stares from strangers,” says Christabel, “I was convinced that her quality of life was going to be so poor it would not be a life worth living. But she’s defied all expectations. I didn’t know, because I couldn’t have known back then, how strong my little girl is and that I would eventually fall in love with her.”

The months that followed Chrislyn’s birth were dark and difficult. Jobless and alone, Christabel contemplated suicide many times. “I had no job, a mountain of hospital bills, and a child with an uncertain future. Many times I’d climb up to the highest floor with Chrislyn in my arms, ready to throw us both over. On one especially dramatic episode, the police was alerted and they snatched Chrislyn away and locked me up for 24 hours. It was during the isolation that I realised how much I loved Chrislyn and cannot be apart from her.”

FACING UP TO REALITY

After she was released, Christabel decided to put her life back on track. She found a freelance job as a shopper with Honestbee. The flexible work hours and supportive colleagues enabled her to continue caring for Chrislyn, who was in and out of hospital for three major surgeries to separate her fused fingers. Together with financial support from Chrislyn’s father who still visits them weekly, things began to look up.

It’s a mental fortitude that this year alone has seen Christabel rise from a depressed freelance shopper who earned an hourly rate to an optimistic and independent full-time lead supervisor at Honestbee. Yet perhaps the biggest milestone last year was purchasing her own four-room HDB flat with her mum.

Anyone who has ever come into contact with little Chrislyn will know that her energy, optimism and unbridled enthusiasm for life is infectious. According to her contented mum, Chrislyn, now three, is a feisty little rock star who is no pushover. “I just wish people would stop gawking at her and treat her like any normal kid. I even had thoughts of printing T-shirts for her that read ‘A shark bit off my arm!’ just to add some light humour,” she jests.

“My greatest wish for her is that she’ll never feel less capable than other girls just because she’s missing a hand. If she wants to play the violin or dance the ballet, I’ll go all out to make it possible for her. I will do everything I can to help her fulfill her dreams,” Christabel says.

My Reading Room

After she lost her husband, Sherlin Giri, 39, wants to be an inspiration to arm others with courage to overcome life’s unexpected turns.

Sherlin Giri will never forget the night she was awakened by a dreadful phone call. “It was 3.14 am and the caller said my husband was killed in a car crash,” Sherlin says, “I thought it was a hoax.”

When she went to the mortuary to identify his body, she was shocked beyond words: “I had never seen a human being, so strong and powerful just a few hours earlier, so lifeless and broken up in a body bag.” Sherlin tried her best to hold herself together for her kids’ – Samara and Shiraz, then only seven and four – sake. “I had to do many things to prevent myself from dying of a broken heart. The pain of losing my husband had become a deadweight in my chest that threatened to burst right through at any moment.”

So, she went back to work. Pulling herself together, she took over her husband’s oil and gas company just a week after the funeral and wrapped it up as it was no longer viable. Three months later, she went back to adjunct lecturing at a local polytechnic while caring for her kids and cleared the remaining debts left from her husband’s estate. “It wasn’t easy and I sprouted a lot of grey hair in the process. I looked like The Bride Of Frankenstein,” Sherlin jokes.

“I tried to get over the grief in the usual ways – busied myself with the responsibilities of a single mum, not putting up photos of my husband around the house, and gave away all his clothes except his favourite pieces,” she says.

It took Sherlin two years to cope with the pain, bit by bit, and become more accepting of her new circumstances. She shares: “Don’t listen to people who tell you to ‘stay strong’. What does it mean? Hold back your tears and don’t cry?” It was sometimes difficult for others to understand her loss as well. “I still get the ‘You’re young, you can still get married’ types of comments and I find that rather disrespectful. A broken heart is a broken heart and you can’t patch it up with a replacement husband-daddy. At least not for me and my kids.”

“I’m not a widow, but a ‘window’ for others to see that there is life after loss”
“I’m not a widow, but a ‘window’ for others to see that there is life after loss”
NOT ALONE

Eventually, Sherlin learned out of necessity how to take care of herself and her kids. “At first I wasn’t sure how I would cope as mother and father but I realised that these roles can be shared by a handful of people who are as committed and loving, and that for me are my mother, sisters, brother-in-law and a cousin,” she says.

“I don’t want people to treat us like we’re a charity case. We may not look like the pictureperfect family and that’s okay,” says Sherlin. “Don’t call me a ‘widow’ – I’m a ‘window’. I’m not perpetually sad and mourning and hey, my kids think I rock. I love public speaking and I hope to share my life experiences to inspire others who might be going through similar circumstances. I also want to share their stories, with all the grit and glory that comes with mourning the loss of the person we love the most,” she says. W

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